Fa la ninna
by BodhiFree
Summary: Claire and John...lovers doing what lovers do.


_Claire called him. She could not deal with her baby sister's crying for one more second and her parents were gone, as usual. He could hear the tiny thing crying upstairs. He took off his boots and followed the noise. Claire was sitting there, hair disheveled, frantic look in her eyes. Exhausted._

"She just won't stop crying, John! I tried everything I could think of."

"She probably just has to burp. My sister used to sound like that when she had to."

He retrieved the baby from her and propped her up carefully. He gently patted her back until she arched back a little and let out a tremendous burp. One that did not seem possible to come from such a small baby. She cried briefly right after but then ceased. She was not asleep but he could tell she could get there with a little help.

"Why don't you head to bed, I'll take it from here."

Claire practically leaped out of the rocking chair and into bed. She was out cold within minutes. It would take Bender almost an hour to get her to sleep. She was fighting it with every fiber of her little being. It was like riding a bike for him though because his little sister had colic when she was about her age. He was up with her so much that he still rocks in place occasionally when he's standing.

He hummed and rocked and patted. Nothing seemed to work. He was suddenly melancholy because he knew he had to try _the song. _His mother had passed away without warning three years prior, when he was 14, in a car accident not long after his sister was born. It was the first separation from her newborn. She had no way of knowing it would be forever.

She used to sing it to him as a boy. The memories flooded back before he could stop them. A vision of his mother humming the song in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and rocking in place absentmindedly. His father stealing a carrot and muttering something, inaudible, as he hugged her from behind and embraced her pregnant belly. He was never the same after the accident. Whatever bitterness and rage his mother had quelled within him was unleashed from that point on. He was drunk every day since. The family John knew was destroyed in an instant by a stranger drunk at the wheel. His heart was breaking under the weight of the memory.

"Okay now, baby. Since you can't even understand English yet, it won't matter that this is in Italian."

He took an unsteady breath and began to sing.

_"Fa la ninna, fa la nanna_

_Nella braccia della..._

_della..._

He choked on the lump in his throat and swallowed.

_della mamma..."_

The tears escaped. He tried to hide his face against her forehead and wept quietly, so as not to startle her. He was still rocking her, looking down at her little face and lamenting the fact that his mother had lost out on countless chances to do the same with her daughter. He started again once the baby protested.

_"Fa la ninna bel bambin,_

_Fa la nanna bambin bel,_

_Fa la ninna, fa la nanna_

_Nella braccia della mamma..."_

He decided to hum the rest after he managed to choke out one more round. She was asleep within a minute or so after the humming replaced the words that cut into him like razor blades. He couldn't put her down, not yet. He looked at her a while, still rocking and humming. He finally laid her in the crib and walked out of the room to go claim whatever space Claire had left him on the bed. She was sitting up awake, tears in her eyes looking up at him.

"John, come here."

He was caught, he knew. But she didn't speak further then. Something about her was different. It must have been the way she was looking at him.

He could feel her drawing him to her in a way she never had before. She pulled him into her for a kiss and his brain short circuited. The sadness lingered but the reason why was out of focus, a feat only Claire could perform. It was such a deep and passionate kiss that he forgot to breathe. They had kissed countless times before but it was different now from the rushed rendezvous in the closets and empty classrooms at Shermer. Those exchanges were superficial in comparison and although they were both falling hard and flat-face-first for each other, it was summer now and they had time to be. They had time to confront what they were both shying from, like the young things they were. This was emotional connection like they'd never experienced and it was palpable. It hung in the air, thick and heavy, and crashed down on them all at once.

This was it. They were finally going to say it.

"I love you."

Claire said it first. She had wanted to say it so many times before but he was hard to reach all the way, and she wasn't ready to say it until she could. She was beginning to think it would never happen and she understood why. All that pain. He was so preoccupied, though, with looking like nothing mattered or bothered him, that it became harder and harder for him to pretend around her. Nothing makes a person more vulnerable than love and he was starving for it. That need was distracting to the point that he didn't even notice when it took over. She would feel the switch when the witty banter and sly smirks dissipated and all that remained was the sound of their collective breathing, so loud in their ears that it drowned out all thought. He let out a little whimper when he wanted more but until now, she couldn't be sure if he wanted more of her body or the rest of her.

"I believe you, Claire. I really do. I love you. I..."

Both of their eyes were wet. John felt her trying to heal him somehow. There was a purposefulness to her touch that communicated with his skin that she was there. Really there and there for him. She was running her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, grazing him with her manicured fingernails in the process and sending shock waves of electricity through his veins and down his spine. She was moaning softly into his mouth. All he wanted to do was let himself fall onto her but he resisted. She seemed to realize this and did it for him. He was right where he wanted to be and resting his hands right next to where he wanted to explore. He waited for her to let him know it was okay. He didn't have to guess because she spoke.

"I'm...ready, John."

He breathed out without an in breath to rely on. Lightheaded and struggling to believe what he just heard he sighed out:

"I really don't want to hurt you."

And this was true. He knew no matter how careful he was, there would be pain.

"It will only hurt at first...it's okay."

He was baffled by the words and the implication that she trusted him to hurt her. Being with him now, in this moment, was worth the pain to her.

He was kissing her again but this time, on skin he'd never even seen, let alone touched with hands before. Without the restraints he was wild but deliberate and gentle, slow. She was floating out of her skin. The pleasure, mixed with the energy that surrounded them, was becoming too intense. It made it hard for her to swallow and breathe. When she said so he would return to the level of physical intensity present before she made the announcement. Before her body moved in a way she wasn't able to control. But the energy was still there and making her heart skip when she would acknowledge it, needing to anchor herself to the smell of his skin to keep from weaping. They had to make themselves slow down a little. She didn't understand fully why she thought this. She must be scared. It didn't last. She wasn't able to fight the desire. Her body was taking over and any residual fear and apprehension was fading.

She was wild now too, feeding off of the way he looked at her. They were both at the point of madness, placing the other's hand on parts of themselves they needed touched. They were starting to pull off each other's clothes now, no longer trying to reach the skin of the other underneath them. Claire barely registered the sound of the elastic on her panties ripping. Once they were down to nothing and clinging to each other's warmth, she felt her mind free her heart and her body the rest of the way. They were close now. Closer than ever.

"You want me to keep going, Cherry?" he asked again because surely this wasn't real and if it was, he knew she had to be just as scared as he was.

She nodded.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop."

His open mouth was on her neck but it didn't stay there long. He was moving along her chest, lingering there, sucking, licking, and making her feel every new sensation in the back of her throat somehow. He moved down her torso, kissing a trail that ended at her hip bone. He sucked and nibbled her there a while, right on the bone, causing her to lurch upwards. He decided she could handle more pressure and initiated a long, dragging bite on the soft part of her hip. He was right. She twisted and moaned louder than ever. Her scent reached him and he lost all inhibition, asking her straight...

"I need to taste you, Cherry. Will you let me? Please?"

He begged as he suckled her inner thigh, mouth drenched.

She nodded again, this time unsure and self-conscious, but he was too far gone to notice.

The intensity was back the second he began but she decided this time to let it overwhelm her. There was only one person she trusted to lead her into this unknown oblivion and it was him.

He took his time and relished every twitch and buck from her hips. Every tremble. Savored every new surge of wetness and the way that she tasted. He had to hold her down when she came.

She looked dumbfounded but was giggling when he laid back down beside her. He looked at her before he smiled into her neck and groaned.

"John?"

"Claire?"

She kissed him and tasted herself on his tongue. She pulled him on top of her again. Right on top of her and guided him to her opening. They locked eyes.

"Please don't stop calling me Cherry," she whispered.

He took a breath and started to say something.

She put a hand to his mouth and silenced him. He blinked slowly at her for a moment, closing his widened eyes to collect himself before he altered her forever.

He tried to kiss her but the mechanics of the act failed for both of them while he tested the resistance where she had led him, using his hand to move the tip of himself up and over and around and back again. Slick, warm, wet. He had to make sure she was ready so he wouldn't hurt her more than necessary. His saliva had mingled with her orgasm and saw to it that she was. He took inventory of her face and asked her again with his eyes. He knew her body was ready but he had to make sure the rest of her was too. He needed it all. He demanded it all, and something inside of him was still not convinced. Would he ever be?

All she managed to get out was another nod and an impatient whine. That was all he needed. A technicality, really, because by this point he could feel her pulling stronger than ever and he finally accepted it. Trusted the feeling and the invitation. It felt as if they were occupying a separate plane of existence, apart from the rest of the world, where they could communicate without sound. Somewhere they would be from now on because the place they were before no longer existed.

It was time. A time of imperceptible mourning for a thing soon lost.

He slid his arms under her back and hooked his hands on top of her shoulders, bringing her down to him. One hand holding her head at the nape of her neck, he brought his other hand out and up to steady himself on the bed. He broke through, his mouth never leaving hers. He stopped when she dug her nails into his back. He heard her take in a sharp breath through her teeth. He died a little inside, knowing he was hurting her.

"Tell me when to move again, baby. Tell me when it doesn't hurt anymore."

A moment later he progressed, inch by inch until they were fully connected. Her breathing was ragged. He stopped to look at her to ask her if she was alright, without speaking. She licked her lips and let out an almost inaudible confirmation. He stayed still for a while, letting her get used to him. He began to slowly pull himself away and back in. Tiny little adjustments until she moaned in pleasure, not pain. She started to move under him the slightest bit and he was a goner. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't hang on much longer and told her he had to slow down.

"Please, don't stop." She looked at him and pulled at his long hair as she said it. She watched as his eyes fixated on her. Sweetly tormented with need, rolling.

She was swirling with need herself. Hearing him lose himself inside of her was almost too much to bare. He was really letting her see him. She felt a tremendous rush of power. He was twice her size and helpless, begging to be let out of an invisible cage and it was up to her to permit it. She urged him on, moving against him and moaning into his ear, determined to make him feel as good as he had just made her feel. He let a long, strangled moan escape his lips.

"I'm so close, Cherry," he whispered, clinging to her. "I'm so-

...Ciliegia. Mia cara Ciliegia, stringimi. Ti amo."

She felt him swell and pulse inside her as he shook and moaned into her neck. He collapsed and let himself be held up by her, almost entirely. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and pulled him closer, kissing his shoulder and tasting the salt on his skin, relishing in the feeling of his weight on her. He kissed her back in kind, sending a wave of chill through her that she wasn't expecting.

They remained fused until their breathing steadied.

Upon separation, they looked at each other. Pointed to the other's hair and lips while touching their own. Tousled and swollen and obvious. Red cheeked and slow, they laughed into each other's skin.


End file.
